[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling’s mind whirled. Much as he wanted to match Toby’s mood of celebration, he found it difficult to centre himself sufficiently. He was tempted to order another six or seven strong ales, but he resisted, remembering how the drink had got him into trouble earlier in the evening. He was spared having to reply to Toby, or to Roa, by the arrival of a stranger who sat at their table and looked at them without a word. Before Snaveling could demand what he wanted a bunch of ridiculous Halflings climbed onto a table and began belabouring the crowd with one of their songs. Snaveling was stunned to see Galadel playing her flute alongside them. Briefly, his eyes met those of the Elf and he felt her reach out to him with her mind. Snaveling slammed shut the doors of his consciousness and he could feel the Elven woman recoil with surprise.

Who in the name of my father is Ar-Pharazôn he wondered. The “Golden King” sounded familiar, but he had never paid much heed to the old tales of the First Days. There had been a story of a great Prince called…what was it?…Tar-something, Tar-Calion! That was it. He had led a fleet to assail the Enemies of the West, but before he could complete his journey…or had it been before?…he had been deposed by traitors. Snaveling remembered the childish tales that his uncle told him about the young nephew and heir of the Prince who had left their island kingdom and come to hide among Snaveling’s people. The gods had destroyed the Island in vengeance for the overthrow of the rightful King by the traitorous group who called themselves…what was it they called themselves? The loyal? The Faithful! Snaveling shook his head – what did such fairy-tales have to do with him?

Roa was looking at him. She has apparently recovered from whatever had upset her, but Snaveling could see that she was simply biding her time until she could confer with Galadel. He put the amulet about his neck once more, but this time he made sure to slip it beneath his tunic. “You are quite right Tobias,” he said as soon as the music had stopped. “We should do our utmost to enjoy the tenor of this night. I for one could use some mirth!” But even as he spoke, the weight of the evening lay heavy on him. To distract himself from the darkness of his own thoughts he turned to the stranger who now sat beside them. “What of you, sir? You must think us a strange group to be so caught up in dark matters when there’s a party to enjoy.”